Day 2: Morning liturgy

Back when I was working full time, I usually started my day at 4am to begin a ritual that allowed me to "fit" everything in.  I would dress in the dark and often nurse a baby. If the baby was tiny,  I would dress the baby (sometimes in adorable khakis and sweater vest) load them into the car and drive in the dark across town to a warmly lit truck stop that was just across from our company's little office. The office was cold and dark and lonely at that early hour,  so I preferred to set up shop at McDonald's where I could get breakfast,  caffiene and something that felt like community. I settled into the same booth and pulled out my planner and started planning the day.  I would have one big focus work task that I would target to finish during those precious quiet early morning hours.  It was a ritual that served me well in that season. It was a tool for productivity but there was also a liturgy in my conversation with everyone who worked there, spiritual intentions and prayers in my journal on days I could remember to do it and the precious little baby who held vigil over my work sleeping in his carrier that somehow tethered that time to the sacred.  

In 2020, life changed.  The baby who had joined my early morning work sessions had grown into a preschooler and I found myself pregnant once again.  The pandemic replaced my early morning work sessions with zoom calls that quickly made me rethink my morning ritual.  I left my job and built a new routine to give our family structure in a time when everything felt uncertain.  I traded early mornings for longer sleep that my pregnant body needed and cuddles with kids who found their way into my room. I then started every day with a 3 mile walk.  Getting everyone dressed and out into the natural light and air did wonders for setting the kids up for a good day.  We walked all the morning errands.  Picked up groceries,  breakfast and stopped to play at the park before we got home and started our day sometime after 10. By the time we got back,  the kids were ready to sit and study and I was clear headed with a plan for the day.  

Years have passed and I again have been feeling like my morning rituals no longer serve me.  The kids have gone back to school.  I still have a toddler who still wakes me up from time to time.  So I wake up with enough time to get them out the door,  but not much extra. Times when I do wake up a little early,  I check my email and the weather.  Sometimes I'll check in on my social media,  them I drag my tired self out of bed, get dressed and make the bed.  Then I'll saunter out and start packing lunches and cleaning the kitchen. It's not terribly inspiring. 

One of the books I'm reading,  "Rituals of the household," talks about life as liturgy. I've been pondering that.  How do the rhythms of my ordinary life act as liturgy for me or my family? Are the small intentions, rituals or habits that I can build into these rhythms that will turn me towards God or build the faith of my children?

I decided to explore this as part of Lent.  I committed to one small practice.  I will get up at 6 and drink tea with Ulrich and I won't look at my phone until kids are almost ready to head out the door - in case there are important emails from school. 

Today was my first real morning trying on this new morning routine.  It was just lovely. Zander crept into my room around 5:30. He was a little restless and I could tell he was ready to get up.  So I asked if he wanted to go play trains.  We crept out of the room and turned on a soft light.  I got the tea kettle started and he started playing trains.  I made tea and curled up on the couch, blissfully unaware of any text or email messages that would be waiting for me, and watched him play.  Ulrich joined me and we silently drank our tea.  Other boys joined and slowly I moved towards breakfast. 

I noticed a calmness in myself.  Making breakfast before the bed was made,  before I knew what tasks I needed to do that day. I can imagine this liturgy evolving.  Perhaps some call and response between me and Zander. Perhaps a prayer of gratitude to accompany the opening of the certains. A holy silence waiting for the water to boil.

Liturgy changes with the season and as life brings new seasons there comes times to reimagine the habits and rituals that govern large parts of our ordinary life.  Our waking and sleeping,  bathing and eating,  cleaning and driving. Life lived well in these small moments can add a tremendous amount of stability and resilience to our lives. Finding God with us in the ordinary keeps faith close and allows it to bleed into and color the rest of our day. 

May you find God with you in the most ordinary of places this day.